


Terrors vs. Delights

by shaniacbergara



Series: Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), I can't stop, Jewish Aziraphale (Good Omens), Jewish Crowley (Good Omens), Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), Judaism, M/M, Professors, Well he's getting there, it's more of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaniacbergara/pseuds/shaniacbergara
Summary: It's more of these idiots. This time featuring the Them. Come talk to me about this AND send me possible prompts over at toby-zachary-ziegler on tumblr. or you can dig my jumblr over at shalomyall
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490870
Comments: 25
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

Rabbi Dov hears all about it from Crowley on Saturday morning.

“How could you not have told me?” He demands, swaggering into the room. The zeydahs and bubbies turn their heads to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Honestly! Didn’t you think I’d want to know?” He’s gesturing wildly, and suddenly it’s clear how a student might be a little afraid of Dr. Anthony J Crowley, if they didn’t know him first. His fury is undercut slightly by the fact that he was holding Aziraphale’s hand. It was undercut slightly more by the fact that Crowley was wearing knitted mittens, a gift from Mrs. Snyder, and Aziraphale was wearing gloves. Rabbi Dov was smiling.

“Welcome, Aziraphale.” He said, choosing to ignore Crowley completely. “I’m glad you’re here. Shabbat shalom.”

“Shabbat shalom, Rabbi.” Aziraphale replied.

“Hello? Am I even here right now?” Crowley asked, turning from his fiance to the rabbi and back again. 

“About time, too!” Mrs. Snyder called. She beckoned Aziraphale over to her, patting the chair next to her. 

“That’s my spot.” Crowley insisted, fruitlessly, as Aziraphale sat next to her. He scowled as he took the seat next to Aziraphale, nodding grumpily at Stan as he sat. Stan looked delighted. Mrs. Snyder pat Aziraphale on the knee, leaning over to him.

“How are the studies, my boy?” She asked, winking. Crowley slammed a hand down on the table, being sure to miss the tanach lying before him, and turned to glare daggers at Mrs. Snyder. 

“You knew about this?” He demanded.

“Of course, he called me.” She replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you didn’t tell me?!” He huffed, thoroughly irritated. 

“No, no I did not.” She was positively radiating smugness. Crowley seized Aziraphale’s chair and scooted it so his angel was facing him. He pointed a long thin finger, lightly jabbing Aziraphale’s chest.

“You.” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “You’ve stolen Mrs. Snyder.” He accused, and Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him. He raised his hand and patted Crowley’s cheek, sighing.  
“Don’t be silly, dear boy.” Crowley huffed, giving in for the time being, as he was loathe to deny his angel anything. The rabbi cleared his throat. 

“Shall we get started?” Crowley crossed his arms over his chest, but quieted himself. “Let’s open up to Proverbs, and we’ll continue our study. We’ll begin with the blessing for Torah study.” They said the words together, and Crowley leaned a little closer to Aziraphale, the better to hear his angel say the blessing. Goosebumps, pure goosebumps. 

The rabbi, possibly hoping to make up for the betrayal of all the bubbies and zeydahs, called on Crowley to read. He read through the chapter, and felt Aziraphale relax beside him. He’d been anxious, that morning, about coming with him. Worried about sharing his voice in the study. Crowley reminded him that, once, Carol had mistakenly said the word “orgasm” instead of “organism” and the class had dissolved into giggles for ten minutes straight. Aziraphale protested again, citing the fact that the class had a history together, and he didn’t want to intrude. Crowley reminded him that he’d been the first newcomer for ten years when he’d arrived, and they’d adjusted just fine. And anyway, Torah study was for everyone. 

Crowley wasn’t regretting it, necessarily, but he’d have to do some major schmoozing in order to win back the bubbies and zeydahs.

He finished his reading, and the class burst into their usual discussion. Crowley’s hand flew up.

“There’s an interesting bit here in the Hebrew, a homophone.” He pointed out. He read the line in question. “There’s a difference between seeing evil and evil sight, but it sounds the same when they’re next to each other like that. It’s a dangerous mistake to make, but maybe that’s the point.” 

“Yes! And-” The rabbi began, and the class erupted into discussion again. 

A few minutes later, Stan raised his hand. “I’m interested in this point about a borrower being a slave to the lender, I wonder if-” And they were off again. Then, nearly shaking, clearly nervous, Aziraphale raised his hand. Crowley looked at him, eyes wide. It had taken him weeks and weeks to raise his hand in Torah study.

“Aziraphale?” The rabbi called him out, Crowley felt his heart in his throat.

“Shakespeare advises ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and, well, it’s spoken in a long winded and easily ignored character, but…” He took a deep breath, and Crowley, unable to stop himself, squeezed his knee under the table. “But I do think that’s the point of this chapter-to give is better than to lend, to make it even, to do what’s right.” The class listened with rapt attention. The rabbi smiled, nodded approvingly.

“Yes, exactly, and-” and they were off again. Aziraphale’s hand met Crowley’s under the table, and squeezed. 

They wrapped up, the rabbi offering his hopes and prayers for the group, and ended with an “amen.” Crowley sighed, turning towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale was already looking at him, and Crowley took his face in his hands, kissing the crown of his head. 

“Amazing.” Crowley murmured, his lips still pressed to Aziraphale’s head. 

“Hardly, dear boy.” Aziraphale laughed. Crowley pulled away, only to find a miniature rabbi standing next to them.

“Well done, Aziraphale.” He said, beaming at him.

“I don’t get a well done?” Crowley asked, indignant. The rabbi raised an eyebrow at him. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, rabbi. I’ll hear about it from this nightmare all day, I’m sure.” Aziraphale said, practically glowing he was so proud. 

“Listen, Crowley, I wanted to ask you something.” The rabbi turned to him, smiling. 

“Now he wants my opinion.” Crowley sassed back, the rabbi whacked him on the arm. 

“Baruch Hashem, Aziraphale, how do you cope?” The rabbi turned conspiratorially toward Aziraphale, but Crowley was waving his hands.

“Enough, enough, what is it?” He demanded.

“My nephew, Adam, and their friends are coming to visit the university. They’re nearly 18 and they need to find somewhere to study. I was wondering if you and Aziraphale might be inclined to show them around, maybe let them sit in on a few classes?” The rabbi was smiling. Well, Crowley thought mildly, the rabbi was pint sized. How much trouble could a few teenagers cause?

“Of course.” He said, smiling back at him. “We’d love to, right Zira?” Aziraphale looked less certain, he was always rather wary of high schoolers, no matter who they belonged to. This trepidation only made Crowley smile wider. “When do they arrive?” They discussed the details, and made a plan to meet at the shul one morning before the drive to the university. They’d have to take two cars, but that didn’t trouble them too much. 

“You two are so kind.” The rabbi complimented. Crowley grumbled at the compliment, muttering and waving it away, but Aziraphale thanked him. 

Aziraphale drove them back to their little cottage, gushing all the way about the bubbies, the zeydahs, Crowley’s brilliant Hebrew reading, the remarkable discussion, and a bit about his own contribution, too. By the end of the drive, Crowley couldn’t even begrudge him stealing Mrs. Snyder anymore. After all, he would have given his angel anything.


	2. The Them, They/Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cannot get enough of them. In which the them introduce themselves, and EVERYONE laughs at Aziraphale

They bickered that morning, before they drove to the shul. 

“High school students, really?” Aziraphale asked, fussing with his clothing. “As if I know anything about high school students.”

“You don’t know anything about university students, either, angel, but that hasn’t stopped you before.” Crowley reminded him, pulling on his shoes.

“Now, really.” Aziraphale admonished. Crowley grinned, looking at Aziraphale up and down. He frowned when his eyes reached his feet. Aziraphale looked down to see what the trouble was. His oxford’s laces had come undone. “Oh.” He said. He reached down to fix it, but Crowley beat him to it, taking a knee in front of Aziraphale, and doing up his shoelace easily. “Oh.” Crowley stood. “Thank you.” Aziraphale said, reaching up to brush a bit of imaginary dust off of Crowley’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, angel.” Crowley assured him, taking his hand and pulling him out onto their driveway. They paused between their cars. “I’ll miss you terribly.” Crowley confessed, and Aziraphale smiled at him. 

“We’re only going to the shul, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He reminded him, reaching up and cupping Crowley’s neck with his palm, he felt the most miniscule of shivers under his hand.

“I’ll still miss you.” Crowley maintained. Aziraphale reached up on tip toe, kissing him briefly, Crowley huffed when they parted, but consented to be bustled into the drivers’ seat of the Bentley. For once, he let Aziraphale go first, pulling out of their driveway, and followed him slowly to the shul. And if, once or twice, he tailgated his fiance, or flashed his brights to get his attention only to make a lewd gesture, who would be the wiser?

Aziraphale would, apparently, as he drover slower each time he noticed Crowley pulling a stunt. When they reached the shul, Aziraphale parked and got out of his car, his hands on his hips.

“Cars aren’t toys, Anthony.” He chided, but Crowley just grinned.

“Where’s that written?” He asked, a favorite question of his.

“Read my lips, then.” Aziraphale countered, falling right into Crowley’s trap.

“Oh with pleasure.” He kissed him, feeling Aziraphale sigh, then huff, then grin. 

“Come on you wily thing, we have teenagers to collect.” Aziraphale turned towards the shul, and took Crowley’s hand as they walked in. This hampered Crowley’s usual saunter, somewhat, but he didn’t have the guile to look even slightly put out about it. 

“Morning, William.” Crowley said, fist bumping the tall man on the way inside, Aziraphale followed suit, beaming at William. 

“Heard you’ve got The Them today.” William asked in his deep voice, rolling with just the hint of a chuckle.

“The Them?” Aziraphale asked, left hand leaving Crowley’s in order to wring together with his right hand. 

“That’s their gang name.” William informed Aziraphale, and Crowley barked out a laugh at the look of sheer terror on Aziraphale’s face.

“A gang?! Anthony, we’ve been put in charge of a gang!” He sputtered, eyes wide.

“Honestly, angel, were you ever young?” Crowley asked, grinning toothily, looking from Aziraphale to William and back again. “All children have gangs.”

“I certainly didn’t!” Aziraphale argued, primly. “And I hardly think anyone would have let you into a gang, my dear fellow.”

“I was! We were called the Hellions. A name given to us by the neighborhood watch themselves, might I add.” Crowley looked very proud. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, angel. So they likely cause a little trouble, what’s the harm in that?” Aziraphale looked as if he very much would like to inform Crowley of how much harm trouble could cause, but was interrupted by Rabbi Dov coming down the stairs and into the lobby.

“Aziraphale! AJ!” He said, arms wide as he hustled down at a two-step. 

“Could at least go alphabetically.” Crowley grumbled, still not over Mrs. Snyder’s betrayal, let alone Rabbi Dov’s. Aziraphale nudged him.

“Boker tov, Rabbi.” Aziraphale replied, and the rabbi beamed at him. 

“The kids are upstairs, all crowded like sardines in my office, they’re getting their stuff together and will be down shortly.” 

He’d barely gotten the words out when what seemed to Aziraphale to be a flood of children came rocketing down the steps. The first one down, clearly Rabbi Dov’s nephew, he looked so much like him, stood next to the rabbi, the same height, but with green eyes and wavy blonde hair. Standing next to Adam was a child who looked spunky enough to rival Bea, with curls pulled back into a ponytail. A nervous child, then, with glasses and a distinct wave to the hair. A smile, soft and gentle. A child who looked as though laundry had never been a blip on anyone’s radar. And, finally, a long haired, bright blue eyed child, with a bit of mischief in the eye that made Crowley grin.

“Oh good, you haven’t caused too much of a ruckus, then?” The rabbi asked, placing an arm around his nephew’s shoulders. The child grinned, letting the rabbi ruffle the wavy blonde hair. 

“Actually, no.” Adam grinned. “Who are these strange looking people?” Aziraphale looked affronted, but Crowley grinned.

“Dr. Anthony J Crowley.” He said, with a bit of a mocking bow. “Crowley is fine, if you’d like, and this here is my fiance, Aziraphale.”

“Dr. Aziraphale Zachary Will.” Aziraphale corrected, nudging the tall fellow.. “And I suppose...Aziraphale is fine.” 

“Well I’m Adam.” Adam held out a hand in a little wave. “They/them.” Crowley nodded.

“Yes, we’ve heard about your gang title.” Aziraphale responded, a bit stiffly, but it only made the tall, unlaundered child roar with laughter.

“Not THE Them.” Adam responded, looking as though they weren’t put off at all by Aziraphale’s cluelessness. “They/them. The pronouns. We all use them.” 

“Are you the spokesperson then?” Crowley asked, grinning. 

“Actually, yes.” Adam confirmed, and allowed Crowley the tiniest hint of a grin. “But the name came first, then the pronouns.” He pronounced it, laid it down like a law. Crowley liked him. 

“I’m Pepper.” The mini-Bea piped up.

“Brian!” The non laundered one supplied.

“Wensleydale” The gentle one added.

“Honestly?” Crowley asked, eyebrows flying towards his hairline.

“Honestly, but it’s not so strange.” Wensleydale replied, grinning a bit. “There’s a reason we save them for last.” Wensleydale gestured to the long haired child, who grinned at their introduction.

“I’m Warlock.” They informed the stunned professors.

“Of course you are, dear.” Crowley replied, grinning his face off. Aziraphale had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. Crowley turned to the rabbi. “We’ll have them back after dinner, will that work for you?” 

“Absolutely.” The rabbi replied, sounding as if a laugh was threatening to burst out of him at any moment. 

“Grand, well, come on then, children. Time to experience the glory of higher education.” Crowley gestured to the door, and the children filed out. He nudged Aziraphale with a sharp elbow before following them. “Very chatty, aren’t you, angel?” It was a gentle tease, and though the words were sharp, it did put Aziraphale at ease. He grinned at Crowley, a little bewildered. 

Upon seeing the cars, the children raced towards them. Brian, Pepper, and Warlock were circling the Bentley, admiring it from every angle. Wensleydale and Adam were standing much more reservedly near Aziraphale’s dreadful sedan. 

“Good choice, children.” Crowley remarked, throwing a wink towards Aziraphale. “Zira, we’ll see you at the office!” He ushered the children into the car, threw it into drive, and sped off, tires screeching. 

“And that, children, is how you should never ever drive a car.” Aziraphale huffed as he opened the driver’s side door to his car. Much to his surprise, Wensleydale laughed. Well, he thought, buckling his seatbelt, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.


End file.
